


Gluttony

by annabagnell



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, M/M, belly stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 18:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19409200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabagnell/pseuds/annabagnell
Summary: Technically speaking, angels and demons didn’t need to eat in order to maintain their corporeal forms. As such, any eating or drinking at all could be considered gluttony, as it was more than they needed in order to get by.In for a penny, in for a pound.





	Gluttony

**Author's Note:**

> snakes can eat a lot of food.

“It is one of the seven deadly sins, you know. Gluttony.” Crowley said, eyebrow raised. “Even an angel like you must be aware.” 

Aziraphale bristled, as much as Aziraphale could bristle. “Of course I am,” he huffed. “It’s just...what’s the point of living immortally, if you don’t sin a little every once in awhile? Oh, never--” He rolled over as Crowley laughed, put out. 

“No, angel,” Crowley said, draping an arm over Aziraphale’s waist and patting his tummy lightly. Aziraphale made a low grumbling noise and huffed again. “It’s just rich, coming from you. But you’re right, you’ve got to sin a little to have fun, and as far as the deadlies go, I’ve got to agree with you, it’s a favorite of mine.” 

Aziraphale rolled back over, placated. “Alright, then,” he said, taking Crowley’s hand and idly playing with his thin fingers. “I was thinking perhaps...tomorrow.” 

“Until?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Until you’re done,” the angel said. 

  
  
  
  


Technically speaking, angels and demons didn’t need to eat in order to maintain their corporeal forms. As such, any eating or drinking at all could be considered gluttony, as it was more than they needed in order to get by. 

In for a penny, in for a pound. 

They started the morning at one of Aziraphale’s favorite breakfast cafes. “Should’ve gone to a buffet,” Crowley said, sliding into a chair and glancing at the menu. 

“That’s next,” Aziraphale replied lightly, and blushed a little. Crowley made an interested noise and ordered a full English when the waiter came around. 

Aziraphale had his usual, eggs Benedict and a cinnamon latte. It was a fourth of the food that Crowley had, and yet the demon had packed it all away by the time Aziraphale had finished his meal. “The point is to savor it,” he said, frowning a little as he sipped at his latte. 

“The point is to pack me full of as much food as I can fit, angel,” Crowley said, putting his hand on his stomach, and Aziraphale’s face flushed and he shifted in his seat. “It’s not gluttony if I’m not  _ really _ overdoing it. Unless you want me to focus on quality over quantity?” 

“No,” Aziraphale said quickly, shaking his head. “You’re right, quantity is...rather the point of the exercise.” 

“‘S what I thought,” Crowley replied, looking smug even with his eyes hidden behind his round frames. “Now, let’s settle up and move on, I’ve got a lot more room yet.” 

Aziraphale wasn’t going to argue. 

The buffet was where things began to get interesting. Crowley was on his third plate of food when he began to notice that his trousers were feeling a bit tight. He looked down and saw his stomach rounding out, finally showing some sign of the food he’d been packing away for the better part of two hours. “Angel,” he said, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the other diners. 

It was enough to get Aziraphale’s notice, and he hid a little smile. “How does it feel?” 

“Just tight, so far,” Crowley said, tugging at his waistband in demonstration. “Haven’t even reached a human limit yet, never mind a serpentine one.” 

“Then let me get you another plate,” Aziraphale volunteered, “While you finish that one.” Crowley waved him off and the angel hurried away. 

He came back with a plate heaped full of breakfast foods: scrambled eggs, sausages, ham and croissants, toast with jam, slightly slimy fried tomatoes. Crowley undid the button on his trousers and dug in. 

The demon hardly had to chew his food before swallowing, though he did so to keep other diners from seeing him unhinge his jaw to consume several whole sausages. As Aziraphale watched with a flush to his cheeks, Crowley packed away that plate of food, then another, with each addition increasing his girth. 

Eventually, he began to slow down. His stomach was becoming too round to allow him to bend forward, so he rested a plate on the dome of his belly and popped melon cubes into his mouth with his fingers, not bothering to chew them in favor of letting them pack him fuller as he swallowed them whole. When the last of the melon balls were gone he reached for a glass of water, but it was behind a stack of plates and he couldn’t lean forward to get it. He waggled his fingers in that general direction and Aziraphale helpfully picked it up and handed it across, and Crowley made a noise somewhere between a burp and a grunt of thanks as he started to suck it down. 

“Um, sorry to interrupt,” said a bus boy, arriving with a tray to pick up Crowley’s used dishes. He started loading stacks of plates onto his trolley. 

“We have a ten-plate limit, but honest, we’re willing to let you keep going just ‘cos we wanna see how much more you can eat,” said the bus boy, picking up another stack of used plates and staring for a long moment at Crowley’s bulging stomach. “No offense, sir, I’ve just never seen one person eat that much.” 

Crowley opened his mouth to respond and let out an almighty belch instead, clapping a hand to his distended middle. He rubbed it lethargically. “‘S a skill,” he said, plucking at his tight t-shirt. His stomach bowed out from beneath his chest, protruding forward several inches and spreading the zippered fly of his jeans wide open. The burp gave him more room, and he poured the rest of the glass of water down his throat, feeling his stomach grow even tighter with the added liquid. 

The waiter picked up the last stack of plates and looked around the restaurant. “We’re, uh, about to finish with breakfast...do you want me to bring what’s left before we clear it all out to make room for lunch?” 

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary,” Aziraphale said, sounding a little flustered, but Crowley cut him off with a wave. 

“Why not? Wouldn’t want it to go to waste,” he said, leaning forward with effort and spreading his legs to make room for his bulging middle. He leaned his elbows on the table. “Just scrape it all into one of those troughs and bring it over. I bet I can fit it all.” 

The waiter nodded, awed, and wheeled his cart away. Aziraphale’s cheeks were flaming. “Surely you aren’t planning on actually eating all of it,” he said, his eyes a little glazed. Crowley bet a tenner that the angel was sporting quite the hard-on under the plastic tablecloth. 

“Might as well,” Crowley said, rubbing his distended stomach with one hand. “Isn’t that the whole point? To really overdo it?” He burped again and leaned back, his stomach sticking out proud and round. 

“I thought we’d have a few large meals while we were out, and then go  _ home  _ to...keep going,” Aziraphale said, the flush now creeping down his neck. 

“Who says we can’t?” Crowley replied, just in time for the waiter to return with a silver chafing dish heaped with the breakfast leftovers. He held it out for a second, unsure, until Crowley gestured for him to put it down on the table. Across from him, Aziraphale looked faint. 

“Looks delicious,” Crowley said, waving the waiter away. Thankfully the restaurant was mostly empty, the breakfast rush having cleared out and the lunch rush not yet having arrived, so Crowley could shovel even more food into himself relatively unbothered. 

Unfortunately, an ache started to settle in after the first few forkfuls of this round of food. His human form was trying to reject the burden he was adding to it, the human stomach clearly not designed for this sort of carrying capacity. His skin was stretching too, taut and itchy in places. “This might be it for awhile, angel,” he said around a mouthful of food, swallowing with a groan. “May need to...take a break after this one.” 

“That’s fine,” Aziraphale replied tightly, resisting the urge to squirm in his seat. Crowley had never stuffed himself this full before, and it was already more than Aziraphale could have hoped for. Watching the demon cram inhuman amounts of food into his human form and seeing his stomach balloon outward with the results had already been highly satisfying. 

“‘M gonna finish this first though,” Crowley continued, patting his turgid stomach lightly. His tee had crept up even more as Crowley ate, and it now pulled tight even around the very top curve. The chafing dish was still half full, but Aziraphale wasn’t sure that Crowley’s stomach could hold much more. 

As each bite of food disappeared into Crowley’s body, his belly swelled bigger and bigger. As he continued to pack it fuller, the only place it had to go was out, and the curve of his stomach distended further and further from its original flat position. Crowley began to have trouble swallowing and had to wash each bite of food down with water, which only resulted in adding more mass to his already aching belly. “Ooh, angel,” he whined, leaned back against the booth with his stomach almost touching the table. He sipped at his water and his belly rippled with a cramp. 

“You can stop,” Aziraphale nearly panted, wanting nothing more than to touch and soothe that enormous curve of packed-full skin. “If it hurts.” 

“But now I want to finish it all,” Crowley replied, shifting his hips and trying to relieve the pressure and discomfort. Hours had passed, and the food that remained was barely warm, but Crowley wanted to defeat the challenge he’d set for himself. “Oh fuck, I’m  _ so _ huge.” His trousers were tight around what used to be his waist, even with the zip undone and the fly spread wide on either side of his dramatically round stomach. 

“You really do look like you could burst,” Aziraphale cautioned, but Crowley shook his head. 

“Won’t,” he said thickly. “Miraculous, really.”

Forkful after forkful made it into the demon’s engorged stomach. He paused after every swallow to rub the very top of his belly, massaging his aching stomach until he could fit more food. He felt stretched tight, like a balloon, adding more and more to his stomach until it was almost creaking. It was very slow going, and Crowley just wanted to be done. 

“Darling,” he said at last, nearly breathless as his packed stomach took up all the available lung space. “Make it so nobody will see what I’m about to do.” 

Almost faint, Aziraphale ensured their privacy and desperately groped at himself while Crowley took shallow breaths to prepare for whatever wicked thing he was about to attempt. 

He lifted the chafing dish to his mouth, opened wide, and poured the rest of the contents of the dish down his throat. His belly rippled with the addition and surged further outward, the skin stretching and filling before Aziraphale’s eyes. Crowley panted in agony and let the dish fall to the floor, clutching his stomach with both hands. It was pressed against the table edge even though his back was to the booth, hot and rock solid, packed full of more food than any human could ever consume. Crowley was reduced to wordless whimpers as his human body worked to accommodate the load he’d burdened it with. 

Aziraphale hadn’t come in his pants in a long time, but it was a record-breaking day for both of them. 

“Alright,” Crowley said at last, lifting the glass of water to his lips and taking the smallest of sips. His stomach bulged from every angle, overfull and packed tight. His shirt had no hope of stretching to cover any of the distention, and Crowley didn’t actually know if he was physically capable of standing. “‘M done. Let’s go home.” 

Aziraphale performed another quick miracle to make himself presentable and began helping Crowley maneuver his way out of the booth. The demon hissed in discomfort as he moved to the side, the skin of his stomach so stretched and taxed that it felt like any quick movements would tear him open. He reached the edge of the booth and held his hands out for Aziraphale to take, letting the angel pull him up to stand as he couldn’t bend around the enormous bulk of his belly. 

Once upright, Crowley lurched to catch his balance, his center of gravity different now than it had been that morning. His hips were splayed to make room for his overfull stomach, which jutted proudly forward, pale and smooth and  _ heavy _ on his front. He took a few steps toward the exit and found he had to waddle, rocking back and forth as he walked. He was rubbing both sides of his aching stomach as they left the restaurant. 

“When we get home,” Crowley said, stifling another huge belch, “You can really fill me up.” 

It hadn’t been very long since Aziraphale had come in his pants, but he did it again anyway. 


End file.
